


Duck Family Values

by Deepest



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Awkward Crush, Awkward Romance, Brotherly Bonding, Chores, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Fluff, Gen, Good-night Kisses, Nightmares, OCD, Original Character(s), Platonic Relationships, Psuedo Parentage, Reflection, Self-Reflection, Sleepiness, Soul-Searching, Summer Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-01-22 21:31:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12491296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deepest/pseuds/Deepest
Summary: A collection of short stories surrounding everyone's favourite boys and their favourite uncles.Usually a buncha writing prompts and such.





	1. Subtle Kindnesses

  


Huey does a lot for the household.  


He cleans and packs the dishes when they lay dirty in the sink. Now, living in McDuck Manor, it’s rare to even find a stray spoon next to an opened yogurt tin in the fridge.  


He cleans his and his brothers room. Rooms, now. Since they have the space to afford it. He keeps his own neat and tidy, but it’s hard to find something to clean even in his brothers rooms, since they’re always just on the organized side of cluttered, and always smelling of detergent.  


He cooks.  


Well.  


Cooked.  


The Manor has two kitchens, and both belong to Beakley. Huey can’t so much as set two slices of bread down to make a sandwich before the dedicated housekeeper appears at his shoulder and ushers him out. Following a minute later with an albeit perfectly made peanut butter and bologna sandwich. One of his secret favorites, which has been cursed many times over by certain unforgiving siblings.  


Yes, Huey likes to do his part for his family and for his house.

  


_At least he USED to!_

  


He knows what to do, though. He’ll just have to get up earlier to beat the clean-crazed housekeeper to the punch.  


He sets his alarm for 5am and wakes up determined to make everyone breakfast.  


He’s down in the kitchen, lights and stove on and standing atop a stool to reach the frying pan before he’s lifted by the armpits and set firmly on the ground.   


Settling his heartbeat, the boy can only grumble and stomp back up to his room to meticulously fluff and fold all his bedsheets. His shriek when he finds his bed already made wakes the entire house, and perhaps the nearest neighbor a whole 50 acres away.  


And so it follows. Huey will try to find something that Beakley hasn’t yet cleaned, folded, wiped or dusted and come up with nothing every time.  


He’ll stand and pester her as she vacuums. Maybe there’s a spot on the carpet she can’t reach? Maybe he can handle the hoover while she holds up furniture? Always “no.” And often a swift banishment from the room by the scruff of his neck.   


He’ll play with his brothers and Webby in the halls all day, and it’ll be fun, as it always is. But as they all traipse up to bed at the end of the day, he can never help but feel as though there’s something he could have done. Just the smallest thing to make his family’s lives just that tiny bit easier that he’d missed.  


He passes Beakley one morning as she dusts the frame of an old oil painting and says and does nothing to offer his assistance. Doesn’t even look up. Doesn’t feel the eyes on his back as he rounds the corner to brush his teeth.  


Breakfast was scrambled eggs with smoked salmon, toast, roasted mushrooms and hashbrowns. As everyone cleans their plates and leaves to get on with their day, Huey sits finishing his orange juice.  


The dirty dishes remain on their placemats.  


Beakley will swoop in any second to clear them away.  


She doesn’t.  


Huey has never cleared a table so fast in his life.  


He stacks the dishes in a small tower on the counter and neatly collects the cutlery. He goes back and wipes down the table and packs away the placemats in the drawer he always sees Beakley place them in. 

He returns to the kitchen counter and rinses the dishes before placing them and the utensils orderly in the dishwasher. Wipes down the counters and refrigerates the leftovers in Tupperware’s that he labels with tape and marker.  


He’s leaning on the cool fridge and catching his breath when Beakley enters. She looks around coolly, with a prepared speech on her tongue.  


“Thank you, Huey, for doing the dishes and... and...” Her eyes slowly widen. “ _Everything else...?_ ”  


She looks down at the young McDuck with evident surprise behind her large glasses. He wipes his brow and beams at her sunnily.  


“ _You’re welcome!_ ”  



	2. Someone's Worst Fear

 

Packing up took millennia. It also went far, far too quickly.  
Knees shaking, he feels like throwing up. He can’t stand. He’s upright on his feet, but Louie feels like one step will send him tumbling. The very air feels like it’s dragging him down, down…

And this is just the waiting. The waiting is the worst, some voice tries to whisper consolingly in the back of his mind. A memory of white walls, bright light and the smell of mouthwash as his Uncle Donald holds his hand accompanies the whisper.

The hand is still hot and firm in his grip. Louie squeezes tighter. Who knows when he’ll get to do it again.  
Something like this shouldn’t happen on such a beautiful day. Suddenly this detail is important. 

It should be raining. Louie should have cold and wet drowning his senses and muddy water pooling at his feet. The sun is beaming a warm glow down on them, a wide smile from up above that honestly feels fake and patronizing. Yellow stains his surroundings in a soft halo. To the boy, it’s blinding.

He should see grey on the day he’s taken from his family.

They stand in a line as though being sent to the gallows. Donald stands tall and still. Louie will only look up while he’s being driven away. He doesn’t want his last look of his Uncle’s face to be puffy and teary.

Louie holds his left hand in a grip as tight as his trembling fingers can manage. Huey holds his right, and is so coldly silent that Louie worries if he is even breathing. Twisted in the eldest brothers other hand is the back of Dewey’s shirt. Dewey holds no one’s hand, and stares down the driveway bristling. A trapped animal.

Webby is inside with her grandmother. Louie can hear her crying. His heart aches as another crack forms under the weight of losing yet another loved one.

Perhaps the last adventure was an adventure too much. Too far from home or too dangerous for three little kids. But was that anything new? Shouldn’t Scrooge be rich or influential enough for them to stay?

Or perhaps it wasn’t that. Perhaps it was Donald, whose perpetual unemployment finally turned the social workers against them. 

Or perhaps… just perhaps… it was them.

Huey Dewey and Louie. Too much trouble for their worth. 

And now, too much trouble to stay together.

Louie’s head drops to his chest and his knees buckle. He cries and tears dribble in rivers down his beak.

Louie wants his brothers. He wants his Uncle Donald. He needs them here. With a warm hand clutching his own, Louie suddenly feels the loneliest he’s been since he was a single thread of code in a dark egg. 

He’s crying. There’s the sound of wheels rolling over tar. He cries harder. Why isn’t anyone fighting harder to stay together?

He looks up, and finds that the hand he’s holding isn’t his Uncle Donald’s.

“ _Unka’!_ ” Louie whips his head around and cries out. The sunny yellow glare makes it hard to see. There are two black cars behind him, and two figures are assigned to each. Louie sees a yellow flipper here, a tufty tail there, and two identical black doors bang shut. One after the other.

Louie is putting up a fight as he is tugged away. He cries and cries. He wants to see his brothers. Just one last time. Wide eyes and craned neck, he tries to see through the windows at his brothers faces but suited bodies block the way as they climb into the front and drivers seats. Once they move, Louie’s heart plummets as he finds the car windows to be as black as the rest of them.

“ _Please_ ,” He gasps and whines. Calls out to his brothers. Huey can roll down a window. Dewey could smash one open. Anything to see them. Don’t they want to see him?

He tugs at his arms which try and pull him back. He can feel the cold shadow of a third cars interior as the others silently and slowly pull away. He shrieks and kicks.

Before the black door bangs shut into his nose, Louie tries once more to find a face that he can keep. A memory he can love forever.

He doesn’t see his Uncle with puffy eyes and tear-soaked cheeks. He doesn’t see him at all.  
The door bangs shut and his world falls away.

  
Louie wakes sweating and shaking and crying. It takes but a few seconds for the light to come back on and he can see. Huey climbs under the covers and sits him on his lap. Louie’s head is tucked under his chin and Dewey is in front of him, talking a mile a minute. Demanding to know what monster scared him so.

Soon the door opens and more light floods in. Donald’s eyes are baggy and his feathers are bedraggled, but he’s awake and attentive. And Louie falls asleep with a warm and firm hand threaded through his fingers in a gentle grip. In his dreams, it feels like iron.


	3. Entitled to Quirky Behaviour

The ducks living under Scrooges roof play host to some of the most bizarre and thoroughly abnormal quirks imaginable.

Some quirks, though. Some remain peacefully common.

Louie keeps his hands in his pockets, and they’re in more than they’re out. Dewey can’t sit still without either becoming hyperactive or dropping into a sleepy trance.

Huey is the most normal, all thing considered. But he has his little quirks.

One is that if you lay him down and brush your fingers through his hair or across his scalp, he will knock out within 10 seconds, at least.

Every.

Single.

Time.

It’s kind of sad, really. That so small a touch can render him goo. But he doesn’t mind it. He’s an affectionate boy, and appreciates every hug, touch and kiss he gets from his family.

So when sitting in the back of the bus on the way home from Waddle (after a long day of uncovering corporate conspiracies and having dreams crushed into dust) and Huey’s immediate younger sibling scoots an inch closer to squish their shoulders together, he doesn’t mind. He smiles and leans into the rare display..

In the lull, Huey can tell the subtlety of Dewey’s hesitance. The blue triplet shifts his weight back and forth before reaching an arm around Huey’s shoulders, which in itself he would have been happy with (it really is rare for Dewey to be so cuddly), but Huey is then dragged down until his head sits in his brothers lap.

Okay. A little strange. Dewey doesn’t do this. Donald, definitely. And Louie, maybe. But even then never in a public space.

Not only are Huey and Dewey currently on a semi-crowded bus but Dewey, Huey knows with certainty, can’t sit still for 5 minutes. And the boy hates to even try. To do this voluntarily is a gesture Huey never would have expected.

But all thoughts melt into butter the moment Dewey brushes the bangs from his eyes.

Huey lays in silence, save the occasional sigh, while his bro rhythmically sifts through the feathers on his head. Even removing his hat to get near the back. There’s not even time for a 5th methodical brush before the boy can no longer feel his legs or arms. Unlike usual, something seems to be stopping him from falling asleep straight away. Instead he slowly blinks as his vision blurs. Watching soft rays of light drift past as the bus rumbles beneath him.

This scene is too rare. Moments like this that he can share with his middle brother are sparse, and Huey doesn’t want to fall asleep just yet.


	4. Kisses

One very big change occurred once the small family of ducks moved into the mansion of the richest and most adventurous duck in the world.

Well… one of several. But this one was significant in its own way.

Donald didn’t think much about it the first night. Once their shared bunkbed had been disassembled and reassembled into the triplets chosen bedroom in the mansion (with help from Launchpad to speed up the process, because by then it was quite near midnight) Huey Dewey and Louie each crawled into bed with hopes that they’d be up all night, raving about the amazing adventure they’d been on. The incredible, once in a lifetime day they’d had.

No raving commenced. Because all three boys were out like lights the moment they rested their heads against their new plush, rich and downy pillows. 

Save for Dewey who had in fact passed out sprawled across the untucked cover, his little legs dangling from the middle bunk.

It was not the first time Donald had to carefully arrange his nephew’s sleeping figure comfortably under his sheets. And for all the times he’d pressed a promising kiss to their temples while they were already off in the land of dreams, this time felt no different.

But the night after their next adventure was when something felt a little awry.

They’d gone nowhere where they’d have to change the times on their watches. Being a part of hostage situation, while exciting, wasn’t enough to exhaust them enough to conk out while putting on their pyjamas. So after sending them to bed Donald expected the boys to wait up for him, like they always did, for their good-night kisses.

They… did stay up. But not for this reason.

Instead, they were talking with Webby. A good thing for the young girl who’d never had company her own age in the mansion. Something about the way the three interacted with her told Donald that he may soon be giving her her own good-night kiss alongside his nephews soon enough. Perhaps something had changed in their relationships with her throughout the ordeal earlier that day.

Donald couldn’t explain it. But it felt disturbing to have missed some, possibly important, development in the lives of his boys. 

He didn’t dwell on it, though. Shooed Webby to her own room, where her grandmother was no doubt waiting to tuck her in, and managed to talk Dewey and Louie back into their beds. All the while, they chatted amongst themselves.

Donald didn’t wait for them to still. Simply turned off the main light as usual, leaving the light of the bedside lamp to dim the room. 

“Goodnight, Huey.” He reached up to the top bunk. Huey stopped his recounting of the elaborate trap they’d set up for Ma Beagle and blinked before uttering a soft “oh” and leaning forward with his cheek turned up for his guardians customary kiss.

Dewey and Louie silenced at the chaste smack, and in turn both turned out their cheeks in an altogether sudden continuation of the familiar routine.

“Goodnight Dewey.  
“Goodnight Louie.” 

“Goodnight, Uncle Donald.” Came the chorus. 

So Donald dimmed the lamp and left the door with two extra inches open between it and the frame.

And so it went. With each new adventure, the boys had more and more reason keep awake at bedtime. And even more reason to dive into snoresville with no regard for where or when, whether it be in their room, in the bath or on the long plane-ride home.

It was one or the other, typically. And Donald might have been able to work around this, if not for the indisputable fact…

His boys just didn’t seem interested in their good-night kisses anymore.

He shouldn’t have been surprised. Kids grow out of things. They grow out of teddy-bears, of baby blankets. Out of night lights and bed-time stories and sucking their little thumbs.

Still… in the past, good-night kisses were always insisted.

Donald may have come back from an 18 hour shift at work to find his boys huddled sleeping on the couch, having waited for him to come home. He’d have rolled them into his arms, tucked them into bed, all without them waking up. And the following morning the first thing he’d hear once they’d woken was;

“Did you kiss us goodnight?”

In which case he might have lied a few times. Because then they’d insist on kisses at the breakfast table.

He’d be cleaning up in the kitchen to be dragged away by the wrists for good-night kisses. Pulled away from a soccer game for good-night kisses. Called into the room by wailing and hollering to be told “You didn’t kiss us good night!”

What… changed? To make it all so redundant?

It couldn’t be Donald. And it couldn’t be Scrooge; the most the old codger did for the triplets as they shambled to bed, to Donald’s knowledge, was tell them to be up bright and early for another expedition the following day.

So why? What made it so Huey, Dewey and Louie suddenly couldn’t care less about getting their good-night kisses?

Donald decided one day to not worry about it.

What did he care, anyway? He was doing his job as their guardian, and keeping them safe. Making sure they ate well, taking them for haircuts, supervising their adventuring when things looked too intense for just Scrooge to chaperone… Good-night kisses just weren’t in his job description.

So if his kisses didn’t matter, why should he bother?

Donald, of course, was never one to entertain the little voice in his head that warned he may be acting just a tad petty. He knew his reasoning.

He sent the boys to bed the day after Christmas with their bellies full of a warm and hearty dinner and their eyes looking ready to slide shut and stay shut for the next fortnight. And on that note, Donald listened for the sound of teeth being brushed and the   
subsequent pat pat of footsteps to their shared bedroom.

And then he slumped onto a couch for some light reading. Primly ignoring the itch to climb up the stairs after the creak of the door closing, but not closing fully.

It was closing on 11:30 when he closed his book and sat with his thumbs twiddling, hands entwined across his stomach. The clock ticked in the hall the next room over, and Donald let dull monotony of the sound lull him into a doze. The ticks went on, and somewhere in his mind, the duck registered a nice softness over him.

A touch just short of his left eye stirred his attention. He might have startled, if the brief contact hadn’t felt quite as warm and sweet as it had.

The touch repeated. Once. Twice. And then Donald breathed a deep sigh and opened his eyes.

He found himself covered in a patchwork quilt. One that had previously been folded neatly in the chair opposite him. He was surprised, but felt a residual calm.

A floorboard creaked somewhere beyond his sight, and Donald slowly turned from his comfy spot. Just in time to glimpse three identical shadows cross into the light of the main hall. Once they’d gone, Donald had the hindsight of hearing very faint whispering. 

And the familiar smell of books, earth and down lingered in the musty air.

Donald closed his eyes. And it was with a dampness caught in his lashes and a gentle smile that he fell quickly to sleep.


	5. Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Platonic! Platonic! Platonic!

Webby had exactly one thing in common with the three intruders that she found trying to make a daring escape from the attic dungeon of Scrooge McDucks Manor; her lifelong home.

That one thing was that they were kids. Like her.

Not even 10 minutes later she had another several things in common with them. A startling development, since Webby had never had much in common with anyone before.

She knew their names; Huey, Dewey and Louie. And they knew hers too.

She had an older relative living in the mansion. So did they! None other than Scrooge McDuck himself!

And not only that. They were playing with her. She was playing with them. They were exploring. Having fun. Together as friends. 

Plural. Friends. They were her friends, and she was their friend.

Not even 10 hours later, they were sailing across the sea. Submarine piloted by their (mutual!) friend Launchpad and being led on an expedition by Scrooge McDuck! Together!

And during the next 10 days after that, Webby learned she had far more in common with the triplets than she’d ever dreamed.

She learned that she and Dewey shared a love of risk and adventure that, when put together, could get them both into marvellous trouble.

She learned that she and Huey shared a love of books, learning and strategic thinking. And that he, like her, could spend hours fingering the pages of books in a library. An activity that Webby found impossibly more enjoyable with company.

She learned that she and Louie did not have a lot of hobbies in common at all. And that, inexplicably, neither of them cared to let their different interests interfere with their friendship.

But they did both share a love of sweets and junk food. 

Which, with Louie’s knack of getting things for free, meant that they’d both spent an afternoon or two being sick to their stomachs after ingesting entirely too much gummy snacks.

This, too, was made into a fun and happy memory when she had someone else to be chastised with. (And someone to help convince two unsuspecting middle and eldest siblings to rub their upset tummies by being as pitiful and puppy-eyed as possible.)

With every new discovery, Webby found herself becoming happier and happier. Being around her friends was just about the only thing Webby ever wanted to do anymore. And with so many things to share, there never seemed to be an end to how much fun they could have together.

But there was one thing.

A festering doubt at the bottom of Webby’s little heart.

Was she sharing too much?

Of course, Webby knew, this was a ridiculous notion. Sharing was the best thing anyone could do. She only wanted to be a good friend to the boys. Sharing simply brought people closer together.

Still… since going out into the world, interacting with other kids, watching daytime television… Webby wondered whether sometimes, people didn’t really want to share.

Sometimes Webby stood too close to someone on the bus or sidewalk. And Huey would pull her aside, muttering in her ear about personal space and being polite to strangers.

Sometimes she also turned some heads while talking. Webby liked to talk, and sometimes Louie would pat her on the arm and whisper little hints like “Keep that last bit to yourself.” Or “Maybe talk about something else now.” While his brothers tried not to notice the exchange, averting their wide eyes.  
The only person who seemed to share her sentiments was Dewey. To an extent. But even he gave off small signs. A cough to cut off her sentence. Or a sudden interest in a bird or passing dog which caught his eye.

So, Webby found herself thinking sometimes… Maybe she had too much she wanted to share.

But that put her in a dilemma… because Webby had so much that she wanted to share. Not just with anyone, either. With Huey, Dewey and Louie most especially.  
With her being so uncertain of what was alright, Webby thought to herself maybe… maybe she didn’t have as much in common with the boys as she’d thought.

Perhaps the scale was tilted just slightly. She had a bit more to share than they did.

She loved them just a little more than they loved her.

Dewey shared the same love of thrill.  
Huey the same love of knowledge.  
Louie, she knew with sickening certainty, shared exactly the same ridiculous amount of love for gummy snacks.

But what was there to say they all loved her just as much?

Webby knew better than to share this doubt. This uncertainty. This embarrassing anxiety. What was there to say they wouldn’t think she was sharing too much?

So Webby bottled it up, as she did so well. She read with Huey, played with Dewey. And raided the pantry for cookies, per Louie’s instruction and guidance.

At the end of one day, when she was in her pyjamas, she heard a knock on her bedroom door.

“Friend or Foe?”

“It’s us, Webby.”

“Friend or Foe?”

“Wh- I don’t…”

“Friend, Webby!”

“Come in!” She called, bouncing a little on her bed.

Huey, Dewey and Louie walked in, still wearing their day clothes. Huey and Louie came and sat on the bed with her, and Dewey leaped up and hung from her book ladder.

“What are you guys doing?”

“We’re visiting you.” Louie said with a shrug.

“Oh?” Webby had visited their room before, time and time again. She’d stopped doing it a little while ago, but they’d never visited her in her room for anything other than to borrow books or find things to play with.

Huey spoke up with the slightest hint of a frown. “Yeah. You don’t visit us anymore.”

Webby blinked. “…Oh?”

“Yeah!” Dewey swung back and forth on the ladder with one arm. “It’s night time and there’s nothing else to do so we’re visiting you.”

“Oh.” Webby forced a smile, understanding now.

She felt a stare on her and looked at Huey. He had his beak pursed in thought.

“What’s the matter, Webby?”

“Nothing!” She perked up.

“Really.” Louie said flatly from her right.

“Really!” Webby bounced a little in place. “Nothing is wrong! I’m hanging out with my bored friends!”

Louie blinked. “Bored?”

“Yes?” 

“Bored.” Dewey landed with a light thump on the floor and made his way over to the bed. “What makes you think we’re bored, Webby?”

Webby looked from one puzzled face to the next. “You said so. You said there was nothing to do.”

“Yeah, but we’re hanging out with you.” Dewey made himself at home, putting his feet under the covers at the foot of the bed. “That’s not boring.”

“Yeah, but-“

“Webby,” Huey narrowed his gaze at her. “What’s really going on with you? You never visit us anymore. And you don’t hang out with us as much.”

“I don’t?”

“No.” Came the resounding affirmation.

“But…” Webby tried to string her muddled thoughts together. “But isn’t that better?”

“What?” Louie sounded almost offended. “How could that be better?”

“Yeah, Webby!” Dewey leaned forwards. “What brought this on?”

“I- I thought…” Webby’s eyes darted between her friends. “I thought less was more.” There came a ‘tch!’ from Louie. The reaction gave Webby sound enough mind to form something coherent.  
“I thought I was meeting you guys in the middle.”

“Well… okay.” Came Huey’s response. Ignoring Dewey’s muttered injection ‘middle of what?’ the red triplet continued. “So you thought you had to match us for how many times we hung out with you?”

Webby nodded, not sure if what he was asking permitted more elaboration. Dewey sat up straight.

“Webby, you mean to tell us you’ve been flaking on us because you thought we, what… needed to be even?”

Webby nodded again.

“That… makes no sense.” Louie summed.

“Hold on.” Dewey rubbed between his eyes. “Why do you think that, Webby?”

“…Well,” One of Webby’s hands came up to rub a lock of hair between her thumb and forefinger. “Isn’t that the way it works? I thought people only share as much as people want them to share.”

“That-”

“Well,”

“You’re not exactly…”

The brothers looked at each other.

“You’re not wrong, Webby.” Huey finally said consolingly. “But, well… you’re logic is a little flawed.”

“…How?”

“Webby.” Louie rolled onto his side to look at her. “How do you know how much time we want to spend with you?”

“Well, I-”

“You don’t, right?”

“Yeah, Webbs.” Dewey crawled over to join his brothers, sitting in a semi-circle around their friend. “Just because we aren’t as, well…”

“Enthusiastic.”

“Yeah- Enthusiastic as you what it comes to sharing… doesn’t mean your sharing isn’t welcome!”

“R-” Webby’s eyes brightened. Hardly daring to believe it. “Really?”

“Yes!”

“Of course!”

“You’re alright with us, Webbs.” Louie sat up properly. “We like when you hang out with us. We’ve gotten so used to you finding us, we kind of don’t expect to have to come and find you.”

“That’s, well,” Huey coughed. “We enjoy spending time with you Webby, doesn’t matter who hangs out with who so long as we hang out together.”

Webby thought her heart might have just grown wings.

“Does that mean…” Webby fiddled with her fingers. “You guys… love me?”

Three white faces went faintly pink.

“Well-”

“Ahem.”

“That is to say,”

Webby’s eyes sparkled.

There was a collective sigh.

“Yes.”

“We do.”

“Happy?”

Webby could barely keep from shrieking in delight. But she did leap forward to wrap her friends in a big bear hug that would leave them bruised for days. 

Nevertheless, Webby was glad to have found yet another thing she had in common with her best friends. And though they’d never utter the words, there was nothing to say that the three boys could ever take back their agreement on the matter.


	6. Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It gets weird. Sorry.

Despite every grievance the triplets pass between each other like hostess snacks, (Donald swears up and down that the brothers will grow up with skin thicker than a rhino’s, and he should know) they have perhaps the most uncanny disposition to share things with one another with no complaint.

Which… Donald actually cannot understand to the best of his ability. But the thick folder of pink slips and bank letters he keeps in his drawer gives him a fair idea.

It can’t be called anything like an unspoken agreement, since it happened rather naturally all on its own. It was a strange sight, seeing three identical boys in color-coded sweaters walk into class hand-in-hand on their very first day in kindergarten. Watching them silently pass each other building blocks and lego pieces with even the slightest glance, seemingly knowing beforehand when one’s brother wanted something they had. And it was given, most of the time, with no hesitation.

It was a very… mature dynamic. A type of teamwork and inter-organization that most adults never manage to achieve until their middle years, if even ever.

And it caused a lot of rumors surrounding mystical triplet telepathy and hive-minds. Webby, Scrooge and even Donald one instance had questioned the possibility while knowing the boys. It was pretty much affirmed that no such thing was the case.

Still, some of the kids in their school still find it creepy.

The point remains: Huey, Dewey and Louie never had any problems with sharing.

But some things… some things needed to be kept respectfully to just one.

Dewey perched on the balcony railing, head tilted upwards. 

If Donald saw him now, he’d have an aneurysm seeing how Dewey swings his legs over a 30ft drop the way he is. But if that were the case, the duck might have to first shake himself out of a peculiar reverie;

The sight of the widest, bluest and most curious pair of youthful eyes, drinking in the sea of stars above him with the hunger of one who had been starving for far longer than his few years.

Dewey can’t explain his need to do this. He hardly ever does, and it’s why Donald might be taken aback should he happen to walk outside and see him now. He knows it satisfies something deep within him, like a thirsty seed in his heart that blossoms with each gulp of the vast view until it spills out like a creeping vine and fills up his entire chest. A heavy weight that grounds him and roots him to Here. This moment.

It feels rather selfish, to claim a sky. An undiscovered universe. And that seems a rather redundant statement, Dewey thinks to himself.

It’s hasn’t always stopped him from sharing. He can count the amount of times he’s done what he’s doing now on his hands. He cannot count how many times he’s stared up at the sky with his brothers. Huey spouting facts and engrossed in the constellations and expansion of space. Louie blinking dazedly at the twinkling lights with a lazy, contented smile.   
Dewey enjoys those times. They’re fun. It’s always fun with Huey and Louie.

It just sometimes… isn’t enough.

Dewey’s want, he supposes, for constant company and social approval has to end somewhere. But Huey and Louie are a special case. He could never deprive his brothers.

At least… he thought he never could.

Yes… he sighs. He’s being a tad selfish. Trying to swallow the sky is no easy feat. And really, he knew without an inch of doubt in his mind that it was really impossible for him to ever do it. Get tired of this.

And for such a goal-driven kid, Dewey wonders if it’s why he can never achieve this impossible thing that makes it something he can’t bring himself to share.

Maybe it’s that. Maybe he’d actually be alright with sharing, should his brothers ever decide to try and join him. He knows that swallowing the sky, while impossible, would still be easier with six hungry eyes instead of just two.

Except Huey and Louie never do try and join him. Dewey doubts they don’t notice his absence. They share a room, after all. He doubts they’re not watching him right now. Sneaking glances at his back while the stars drift unconcernedly out of his reach.

Maybe it’s that uncanny understanding they’ve always had. Perhaps… maybe… they just let him keep this one.

Dewey’s eyes do their best to follow the trail left by the very furthest edge of space. His line of sight doesn’t even quiver.

Maybe this is good for him. Like getting your hand bit by a dog when you do too much to provoke it. Or when you fall off your skateboard trying too hard to impress your friends. Dewey decides that even if he doesn’t understand fully, it’s still good for him to be reminded how small he is.

As the stars blink at him with the disinterest of a mountain looking down at an ant hill at its foot, Dewey briefly thinks that maybe having his brothers here to share this with him wouldn’t make that much difference at all.

And then he smiles, and the sky suddenly seems that much farther. What a silly thought.

With that in mind, Dewey blinks and his eyes fill with moisture to make up for his cosmic staring contest. He enjoys his time alone with the stars. It searches him to his core when he can’t do anything to begin searching back. And in the end, Dewey always forgets that he comes to the same conclusion every time.

The stars cover his back as he strides back into the room. Answers can be found if you look for them closer to the ground. Look to the sky, and they can come to you.

But Dewey doesn’t need answers to jump out at him. He crawls into the middle bunk. His bed between two others. And as he settles, he can hear shifting and soft sighs above and below him.  
He knows he’ll find answers in his own time. And if ever he finds himself lacking, he knows it won’t be for long.

He has everything he needs to be content. And it’s closer to home than even home is.

Who is he to dismiss that the sky can do anything to change a bond between three brothers?

Well, he’s a brother. And being as alone as it is… maybe the universe doesn’t really understand him, either.


	7. Memories from Summercamp - Part 1(?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Huey has a friend from the Junior Woodchuck and Chickadee Co-Ed Collaborative Summercamp last year. She's finally coming to visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter includes an OC of mine and tumblr user squorkal's and is part of an ongoing unwritten story heavily inspired by the movie Addams Family Values.  
> Let me know if you'd like this chapter continued, or if you'd like to read the original story surrounding what went down at Summercamp.
> 
> Awkward Tween-Early Teen Confusing Feelings and there's a goth girl who nobody believes isn't out to kill Huey let alone enjoy's his company.
> 
> (Nothing sketchy because gross gross gross dangit these are children)
> 
> This story is being continued in a separate work.

Huey, Dewey, Louie and Webby had been looking forward to the summer all year. A fantastic opportunity to get into all manner of mischief. Dewey had so many plans for house games. Louie had so many hopes of lazing on the couch binge-watching Ottoman Empire. Webby was ecstatic to spend her first whole summer with her best friends in the whole world.

Huey was excited for another reason.

He’d asked. After so many months of writing of writing and staying in touch. He’d asked.  
He’d gone through a whole year sending letters off to his penpal. And he’d finally brought it up a good month before school got out for the long-awaited summer break.

He invited Mercy Marie to McDuck Manor.

Receiving his next letter with great anticipation, the response was more than he’d hoped for! Not only was Mercy in agreement, there was also a note from her parents in bubbly writing expressing their permission. He only needed to arrange it with his guardian.

Huey asked quietly over dinner one evening for his uncle Donald to pass the juice pitcher. And then he asked if he could have a friend stay over for a week as the older duck reached over his plate.

He was met with all the questions he was expecting as he cleaned mashed potatoes out of his hair. Donald Duck was as paranoid as he was short-tempered. And Huey wasn’t surprised that his request made the duck so suspicious. Donald knows next to nothing about his charge’s social lives outside of their own little circle, but he’d thought he would have known if one of his nephews was close enough to someone else’s child to warrant a stay that long. He was even more perturbed at discovering that it was a penpal.

But Huey was adamant that he knew the child very well. Said they’d met at Summercamp, and were close friends. Donald squinted at this. The _same_ Summercamp he, Dewey and Louie had _escaped_ from? Huey rolled his eyes. Explained for the hundredth time that there was another reason for that.

He showed Donald the note from Mercy’s parents and after another barrage of questions finally satisfied his Uncle.

The next letter Huey wrote asked for Mr and Mrs Blackwing’s phone number, along with a note from Donald with a few holes poked through the scribbles that he wasn’t allowed to read.

A week-long visit was decided. And now summer is here. And Mercy Marie’s family car is ringing for entry at the gates of McDuck Manor.

Huey feels suddenly nervous. The last time they’d seen each other face to face… through the chainlink fence surrounding the Woodchuck-Chickadee Lodge and Grounds…

It was chaste and gross and confusing and he doesn’t regret it one bit. He wonders if he’ll have the urge to kiss her again when she walks through the door. He hopes he doesn’t and does.

Dewey and Louie are both in The Know. And neither of them are happy about it. Both have kept the secret for as long as Donald’s been slowly warming up to the idea of Huey’s little friend from Summercamp and have done so since the summer in question. And they all know without saying that they wouldn’t rat each other out like that. So Huey trusts that they’ll behave with the ammunition they’ve got in their pockets.

When Beakley opens the door it’s to two tall, thin and colourful people. The man, heavily garnished with beaded and shell necklaces and proudly donning a vibrant red beard to go with his thick locks, pulled into a braid, introduces himself as Todd. He shakes Donald’s hand with both of his and beams all the while. His beautiful wife, long blonde hair brushed up into a flyaway ponytail and adorned in a floral-print dress that touches the floor, is Marie.

And between them in her black dress is Mercy, petite and silent. Her face is as pale as ever, and her raven hair frames her dark eyes in the unpromising way Huey remembers. Though it seems to be a touch longer than it was last summer.

Todd breaks off from his cheerful and long-winded greeting and gently nudges his daughter forward with an encouraging smile. “Come now, Mercy Marie! Introduce us to your little friend! We’re excited to meet him!”

Mercy stares pointedly at Huey. Huey’s face, he has reason to believe, is red. Donald stands with his mouth agape, and Huey doesn’t blame him.

“So you’re little Huey Duck!” Todd encourages, and takes his hand in an enthusiastic shake. “We’ve heard some things about you!”

He says it with no deeper meaning. Huey knows to take it as a compliment. He smiles bigly.

“A pleasure to meet you finally, Mr Blackwing!”

“A pleasure to meet you too!” Todd responds in the same chipper manner.

“Our Mercy was happy to come visit!” Marie pitched, bending down to take his other hand. Huey is smiling a whole lot.

He breaks off from the three-way greeting and bounds up to his penpal. His friend. Visitor. He’s excited to see her at last.

“You’re here!” He says.

Mercy nods. Keeps her head in the down position.

Huey steamrolls into the familiar motions of exchange that he remembers having to endure before he could talk to her through writing. It feels good-bad. “You wanna have lunch?”

She blinks. After a moment she replies monotonously, and Huey is delighted to hear the trill and sweet sound of her young voice again. One that totally betrays her dark persona.

“Yes please.”


End file.
